Saturday, October 22, 2011

...

And all the gold dust in her eyes won’t reform into rain , You had and lost the one thing, You kept in a safe place, Remember the face, Of the girl who made you her own, And how you left her alone

The voice cuts through the dark night like the scalpel through the skin. The words are undecipherable but the tone comes across with a clarity, loud and grating like a bone saw. I roll over, hoping it was just a dream and the words were not coming from the next room. That tone comes again and again, as if it were pulling back layer and layer of skin and muscle, pushing through the ribcage, past more muscles to the precious pericardium. And there, in the silence lies the softly beating heart. Mine lays nearly silent to try and catch the topic of angry discussion. Hers has shut down, left beaten and bruised with word after angry word from the angry tone.

The heart is a fragile thing. One that most protect with all of their strength. We add walls and fences, and yet sometimes we let ourselves become vulnerable with another. One that we love. We share our deepest darkest secrets. The ones that have never been voiced before., our struggles and failures. The wounds that still hurt after years and years of impartial healing.

Sometimes that vulnerability, in the heat of the moment is used against us like a finger jabbing an already tender wound. Our secrets are turned around to be hurtful. Hurtful in a multitude of ways. The kind that hurt because one has not healed and because the one we love uses purposely against us.

How does one decide when to cut out the one that knows us the best? When is enough enough? When does she allow her heart to beat again? Who will shock her partitioned heart back to normalcy? Keeping it from it's impending death? When do her eyes open to the reality of the situation? When does the tone turn into one of healing and comfort?

After a few more rounds, the tone cuts through the night one last time. One last final word, the last peak before the flatline.... and then,...simply silence....

And if you burn the road that’ll lead you back to her in time, I'll watch you turn to stone, She’s moving on without you...